


Nineteen

by japastiel



Series: kisses [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Frottage, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, curvo is possessive, tyelko is jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5388884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for Celegorm/Curufin + Jealous Kissing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nineteen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WayfaringScribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WayfaringScribe/gifts).



“It’s just a small trinket.”

Celegorm can hear his younger brother’s distinct voice echo across the room and rattle around in his head as the older smith admires the wrist cuff Curufin had expertly handcrafted two weeks ago. It was a small piece, hardly the finest gold, but intricate and perfectly balanced; not to mention gorgeous.

 

“Nonsense.” The taller, light haired elf pushes a piece of his unbraided hair behind his ear and looks at Curufin through crinkled eyes and too-long lashes. “Exquisite, Curufinwe.” his lips turn up at the corners and Celegorm glowers. Everyone present catches the double-meaning in his words and agrees. Curufin visibly drinks in the flattery but smirks and sneaks a look at the dim corner of the public reading room Celegorm has been sulking in.

 

Celegorm recognizes the smith, he had been an assistant to Feanor before Curufin had started his apprenticeship. Their age difference doesn’t seem to deter the blatant flirtation or his thumb from dragging across the steady pulse in Curufin’s pale wrist. Celegorm gnashes his teeth and growls as he sinks lower into the reading bench.

 

 _No one is allowed to look at Curvo that way, much less_ touch _him._

Without missing a beat Curufin wraps his conversation up and dismisses the older smith, who looks over his shoulder to see Celegorm staring daggers in his direction. He gives them both a curt nod and scuttles out the door as fast as he can without breaking into a full run.

 

Curufin glides across the empty room and drapes himself over the bench, his hand sinks into Celegorm’s shoulder, fingers automatically twining a loose lock of silver blond between them.

 

“Why, brother, you look like you just ate a persimmon whole. Something _bothering_ you?”

 

Celegorm’s sharp blue eyes sear into Curufin’s quicksilver. He would tell him to piss off but his blood starts to boil at the effortless way Curufin settles in and lolls his head against the high cushions. Curufin’s legs sprawl open taking up more room than someone of his stature has any right to as his knee purposely knocks into Celegorm’s. Curufin smiles in that cocksure lazy way that makes Celegorm’s skin tingle and fingers start to itch with the need to touch anything and everything.

 

Celegorm feels his body start to move without permission, leaning easily into his brother, molding and melting them together. He stretches into Curufin’s space, breathes in his sooty aroma fresh from the forge, and rumbles into his ear, “You _know_ why I’m angry, Curvo. You let him _touch_ you.”

 

Curufin inhales sharply, craning into Celegorm’s breathy snarl, “Lots of people _touch_ me, Tyelkormo. He was just admiring my work. He admired father’s craftsmanship too, you weren’t cross about that.”

 

“Curvo, he admired more than father’s _craftmanship_. And I think he admires what father crafted with his loins _more_.” Celegorm guides Curufin’s chin with a single finger, attempting to look at him straight on, but Curufin’s neck is tilted back; he’s flushed and open and more distracting than Celegorm cares to admit.

 

Curufin knits his brows, “Are you implying that he was sleeping with our _father_?”

 

Celegorm opens his mouth and closes it once the words sink in before hissing, “ _What?_ No! I was--wait-- are _you_ fucking him, Curvo?”

 

Celegorm tries to growl but it comes out as a high-pitched yelp as his head cracks against the wall. He tries to make sense of the room but he’s dizzy with the speed everything seems to tilt, then snap into sharp hyperfocus as Curufin slams him into the bench and straddles him, effectively pinning him. Curufin’s overly strong forge-worn hands clamp Celegorm’s wrists to the back of the bench as he rumbles against his neck, “I’m not fucking anyone,” he nips hard at the tender flesh at the base of Celegorm’s ear, “except _you_.”

 

Celegorm whimpers and arches into Curufin, feeling how aroused his brother is; Celegorm can see the sweat beading on his neck and aches when Curufin's sizable cock presses bone-deep into his hip. Curufin’s muscular thighs tighten when Celegorm rolls his hips forward, begging for more as sharp teeth sink into the thick muscle between his shoulder and neck.

 

It’s a testament to how off kilter Celegorm’s sense of appropriate brother-touching is, that his head is buzzing with fear as he grows more aroused. Celegorm tries to remember that he should be angry but the rapid way his body is betraying him, more than staying focused is hard.

 

Curufin licks a filthy stripe from Celegorm’s collarbone to the tip of his ear before releasing his death grip on Celegorm’s wrists. He drags his manicured nails down Celegorm’s bare arms, leaving angry red welts in their wake; snarling “ _mine,_ ” before snugging his nose into the crook of Celegorm’s ear, “and I’m yours. _Only_ yours, you jealous asshole.”

 

Celegorm feels the air heat, the kind of warm that makes his skin peak and prick, the kind that makes him want to drag his fingers over his neck at phantom sweat; he wants to touch himself to try and soothe it to avoid giving into the monumental temptation in his lap. He knows the cure for his ache and he puts it off for another second by swiping his tongue over his lips. Curufin’s hands drag down-- softly now-- over Celegorm’s hips, coaxing a breathy huff from Celegorm, the word shivering across his lips.

 

“ _Curvo_.”

 

Celegorm manages to overcome his remaining flimsy moral hurdles and hooks his fingers into the tender skin at the back of Curufin’s neck and pulls him down, pressing their already parted lips together. Celegorm can feel Curufin unraveling against him as his grip turns gentle and his tempered mouth goes pliant and loose. Curufin tastes like forge fires and molten metal and everything Celegorm can remember being in love with since he knew what love was.

 

When Curufin’s tongue flicks against Celegorm’s lower lip, lazily pushing his lips apart,  Celegorm knows he’s lost the battle-- no sense in pretending he’s still angry. Curufin’s fingers dig into his hip like an anchor as he sucks Celegorm’s lip between his teeth and worries them over spots sure to bruise later. Celegorm whines and whimpers when Curufin pulls back, so he peppers light kisses on his plush lips and huffs, “We should go. Before…”

 

Celegorm pulls Curufin flush with his chest and nods, afraid that his voice will come out as ruined as he feels. Only Curufin can take him apart so easily; hardly any effort at all and he’s breathless, hard and nearly wrecked. Curufin rubs his cheek into Celegorm’s and sighs, “I love you, despite you being so jealous.”

 

“... _despite_? You _love_ that I’m jealous,” Celegorm can’t keep the bite or tremor out of his voice as he eases Curufin to his feet, letting the accusing dig you did this on purpose and exhibitionist die on his tongue. Adding a grumbled it’s not like you’re any better instead.

 

Curufin shrugs not bothering to argue with the truth and follows Celegorm across the room. Celegorm stops suddenly blocking the exit and leans strung out and syrupy into the broad door-frame and pulls Curufin into a lax kiss, dragging his lips away rough, across the edge of Curufin’s jaw before catching his teeth on the tender skin of his ear, “Love you too, Curvo.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> nineteen: the number of years between Curufin and the smith, not enough to really matter to an elf, but Celegorm is jealous, so its enough to balk at.


End file.
